I actually like using the word "cacophony" in every fifty thousand words or so of fiction that I write. It's a good word.

I use "denizens" too sometimes, but that's to describe some citizens on of sort of otherworldly land. There's an alien-like quality to the sound of the word.

I don't write "serious fiction" though.

Definitely agree with you regarding your other pet peeves. I like protagonists who are writers sometimes, but that's because I'm a sucker for those kinds of things. But I think it's lazy writing protagonists like that and I'm pretty sure that readers who aren't writers too won't dig it.

I finished the first draft on a story last week. My original idea was to have a writer protagonist. But I thought that was lame, so I changed him to a greeting card designer.

And I HATE A very young "precocious" narrator. That's literary fiction at its laziest. Like I wrote in this thing-- http://www.dharlanwilson.com/dreampeople/issue27/sands.html -- "-every story must be written from the point of view of an eight-year-old who thinks and speaks as if they're fifty-two."

Micah Hacim: Write a story about how you're a jerk from the point of view of the bodyguard who used to beat you up during Rory Gilmore's years at Chilton Academy:

My girlfriend is pregnant, but the bitch says I better stay the hell away from her and the baby. She also says if it's a boy she will name it. if it's a girl she won't even bother with potty training.

I kicked the shit out of the guy she's seeing now. A smart mouth zinester who goes by the name Andrew Brown.

I punched his teeth out, I punched him in the chest, but when I kneed him in the crotch he didn't double over in pain like I expected. That got me thinking.

I haven't been a thinking man since I was expelled from Chilton Academy. I was a straight 'A' student, handsome as shit, and the school newspaper's ace photographer.

One day, after fencing practice, I noticed the school's weirdo, Hacim Mortsmlam, looking up Rory Gilmore's skirt from beneath the bleachers. Later, I elbow-dropped his face in the locker room.

I refused to reveal why I'd done it, and the administration expelled me.

Father got me work at one of Nightclubs he owned out in Salt Lake Shitty as punishment. But I was well suited to the work and found I liked cracking drunkard's skulls on the weekends. It was a lot like the movie Roadhouse. So I decided to become a bouncer.

Years later, I slept with one of the barmaids without a condom and that barmaid was my baby's momma that I mentioned earlier.

I just googled the zinester Andrew Brown, and it turns out he was once a she! Andrew Brown was once Angela Brown! No wonder my nut shot had no effect.

Next time I see that transgendered mother fucker I'm gonna elbow-drop it in the face. Until then, I'll catch up on Tivo.

About Me

I wrote It Came from Below the Belt, My Heart Said No, But the Camera Crew Said Yes!, Sorry I Ruined Your Orgy, and Rico Slade Will Fucking Kill You. I edit a literary journal called Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens. I like cheese. I am lactose intolerant.